Adrian's last day at Reliable Office Solutions began with what he was starting to recognize as the universe's signature blend of cosmic irony and logistical impossibility. The magical flower rain had stopped by the time he reached his office building, but it had left behind an atmosphere of inexplicable cheerfulness that seemed to follow him like an overly enthusiastic golden retriever.
The security guard in the lobby, Mr. Henderson—who had never spoken to Adrian beyond the occasional grunt of acknowledgment—suddenly broke into a beaming smile when Adrian walked through the doors.
"Adrian! My boy!" Mr. Henderson exclaimed, as if they were long-lost relatives reuniting after years of separation. "Congratulations on your heroic achievement! We're all so proud of you!"
Adrian stopped walking. "How do you know about that?"
"Oh, everyone knows! It was in this morning's paper!" Mr. Henderson held up what appeared to be a perfectly normal newspaper, except for the headline that read: "LOCAL OFFICE WORKER SAVES MAGICAL LEADER, DISCOVERS DESTINY."
Below the headline was a photo of Adrian that somehow managed to make him look both heroic and confused, which was probably the most accurate representation of his current state that journalism had ever achieved.
"That's... in the regular newspaper?"
"Page three! Right next to the weather forecast and the horoscopes! They say you're going to hero school! Very exciting!"
Adrian took the paper and scanned the article, which was written by someone named "Staff Reporter M. Scribbleworth"—presumably Penelope's less magically inclined relative. The article was surprisingly accurate, though it did describe his Heimlich maneuver as "executed with precision that borders on the supernatural."
"I have to go," Adrian said weakly, handing back the paper.
"Of course, of course! Big hero like you must have important business! Don't forget us little people when you're famous!"
Adrian took the elevator to the seventh floor in a state of growing dread. If the story was in the regular newspaper, that meant his coworkers would have read it. His boss would have read it. His mother—who still thought he was studying business administration—had probably read it.
His phone buzzed with a text from his mother: "Adrian, honey, why is there a newspaper article about you saving someone with magic? Are you feeling okay? Should I drive up there? Do you need soup?"
Another text immediately followed: "Also, what is Hero Academy? Is that a new business school?"
And another: "The article mentions dragons. Please tell me that's a metaphor."
Adrian stepped off the elevator and immediately knew that his life had taken another irreversible turn toward the surreal. The entire office had been decorated with what appeared to be homemade congratulatory banners:
"CONGRATULATIONS ADRIAN THE MAGNIFICENT!"
"OUR OFFICE HERO!"
"FROM CUSTOMER SERVICE TO SAVING THE WORLD!"
"WE KNEW YOU WERE SPECIAL!"
His coworkers—people who had barely acknowledged his existence for two years—were gathered around his desk like he was some kind of returning celebrity. When they saw him approaching, they burst into spontaneous applause.
"Adrian!" called out Janet from Accounting, a woman who had previously only spoken to him to ask if he could work late to cover someone else's shift. "We can't believe we've been working next to a real hero all this time!"
"I'm not a hero," Adrian said automatically. "It was just first aid."
"Don't be modest!" exclaimed Bob from Sales, clapping him on the shoulder with enough enthusiasm to dislocate something important. "Saving an Archmage! That's better than any sales quota I've ever hit!"
Adrian's manager, Mr. Thompson—a man whose previous interactions with Adrian consisted entirely of criticism about his filing system and pointed suggestions about "improving his attitude"—came rushing over with an expression of desperate friendliness.
"Adrian! My star employee! I always knew you had management potential!"
"You wrote me up last month for being three minutes late," Adrian pointed out.
"Did I? I don't recall that at all! Must have been someone else! Now, tell me, this Hero Academy—is it like an MBA program? Because I've always thought you had executive potential!"
Adrian looked around at his suddenly supportive coworkers and realized that everyone was staring at him with expressions ranging from awe to barely concealed ambition. Several people were taking selfies with him in the background, and someone had apparently called the local news because there was a woman with a camera crew talking to the receptionist.
"I should probably clean out my desk," Adrian said.
"Oh, there's no rush!" Mr. Thompson said quickly. "Take all the time you need! We're happy to accommodate your heroic schedule! Maybe you could put in a good word for our company with some of your new magical contacts?"
Adrian began gathering his few personal items from his desk—a small plant that was probably dead, a coffee mug that said "World's Okayest Employee," and a photo of his parents that he kept meaning to update with a more recent one.
As he packed, his coworkers continued to hover around him, asking increasingly ridiculous questions:
"Do you have magical powers now?"
"Will you be riding dragons to work?"
"Can you get us discounts on magical services?"
"Is there money in heroic work?"
"Could you put in a good word for my son? He's looking for summer employment."
Adrian's phone kept buzzing with messages:
From his mother: "Adrian, I'm driving up there. Something is very wrong."
From his college roommate: "DUDE! You're in the news! Are you actually a wizard?"
From his dentist: "Congratulations on your heroic achievement! Don't forget your cleaning appointment next Tuesday!"
From his gym: "Heroes get 20% off membership renewals!"
The local news crew had apparently gained access to the office floor because the reporter was now interviewing Mr. Thompson about Adrian's employment history.
"Oh yes, Adrian's always been exceptional," Mr. Thompson was saying into the camera. "Natural leadership qualities. Outstanding customer service skills. I always knew he was destined for greatness!"
"Didn't you try to fire him last Christmas?" Janet whispered to Bob loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I'm sure that's not true," Mr. Thompson said quickly, sweat beginning to appear on his forehead.
Adrian's computer chimed with an email notification. The subject line read: "Heroic Career Transition Services," and the message was from the Department of Heroic Affairs:
"Dear Adrian the Magnificent,
We understand that transitioning from mundane employment to heroic career can be challenging for both heroes and their former employers. We have taken the liberty of managing your employment termination to ensure minimal disruption to all parties.
Your final paycheck has been processed and enhanced with a heroic transition bonus. Your mundane employment benefits have been transferred to your heroic benefits package (significant upgrade in coverage and scope).
Your former employer has been compensated for the loss of your services and provided with excellent references for potential replacement candidates.
Please note that maintaining contact with former mundane colleagues is discouraged during your first year of heroic training, as it may complicate your identity adjustment process.
Heroically yours,
The Department of Heroic Human Resources
P.S. - Your mother has been provided with an informational packet about heroic careers. She should receive it within the hour."
"My mom's getting an informational packet," Adrian announced to the room.
"About what?" asked Janet.
"About heroic careers, apparently."
"That's so thoughtful!" exclaimed Bob. "The magical government really takes care of their people!"
Adrian's phone rang. The caller ID showed his mother's number, but when he answered, a cheerful voice that definitely wasn't his mother said:
"Hello! This is Melissa from Heroic Family Services! I'm currently speaking with your mother about your career transition. She has some questions about dragon safety protocols and health insurance coverage. Could you please confirm that you're transitioning voluntarily?"
Adrian could hear his mother in the background: "I don't care about health insurance! I want to know if my son is in danger! Are there actual dragons?"
"Yes, Mrs. Klutz, there are actual dragons, but they're very well-regulated and have excellent safety records..."
"I should take this call," Adrian said to his gathered coworkers.
"Adrian," his mother's voice came through the phone, "please tell me this is all some kind of elaborate prank."
"It's not a prank, Mom."
"So you're actually going to a school with dragons."
"Apparently."
"And you saved someone's life."
"Yes."
"And now you're registered as a professional hero."
"That seems to be the situation, yes."
There was a long pause.
"Well," his mother said finally, "I suppose I should be proud. But I'm also terrified. And confused. And I think I need to sit down."
"Mrs. Klutz," came Melissa's voice, "we have excellent family counseling services available for relatives of newly registered heroes. The adjustment period can be challenging for everyone involved."
"I just want to know if he's going to be safe," his mother said.
"Heroes have the best safety training available, comprehensive health coverage, and access to magical healing services. Statistically, heroic work is safer than many mundane professions."
"What statistics? How long have there been hero statistics?"
"The Department of Heroic Affairs has been collecting safety data for over three centuries, Mrs. Klutz. Your son will be very well protected."
Adrian looked around at his former workplace—his coworkers still staring at him with fascination, the news crew interviewing people about his filing efficiency, the congratulatory banners that someone had apparently made during their lunch break.
"Mom," he said into the phone, "I have to go. But I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"You better call me tonight, young man. And I want details. All the details. Especially about the dragons."
"I will, Mom. I promise."
He hung up and turned to address his former coworkers, who had been listening to his conversation with barely concealed fascination.
"Well," Adrian said, "I guess this is goodbye."
"It's not goodbye!" Mr. Thompson said quickly. "You'll always be part of the Reliable Office Solutions family! Maybe you could come back and speak at our annual team-building retreat! Our employees would love to hear about heroic leadership principles!"
"I don't think I know any heroic leadership principles."
"You will after Hero Academy!" Janet said confidently. "You'll probably come back with all sorts of amazing skills!"
The news reporter approached with her microphone. "Adrian, could we get a few words about your transition from office work to heroic career?"
"I'm not sure I'm qualified to comment on anything yet," Adrian said. "I literally just found out about this whole situation yesterday."
"That's perfect! Our viewers love authenticity! What advice would you give to other ordinary people who might discover they have heroic potential?"
Adrian thought about this seriously for a moment. "Learn first aid. Read contracts before signing them. And always keep your emergency contacts updated because apparently your life can change completely in about thirty-six hours."
"Wonderful! And what are you most looking forward to about Hero Academy?"
"Not dying," Adrian said immediately. "My primary goal is to not die."
"Such humility! And what about your long-term heroic career goals?"
"Surviving the short-term goals."
The reporter laughed as if he'd made a joke. "Well, we'll all be following your heroic journey with great interest! Good luck at Hero Academy!"
As the news crew packed up their equipment, Adrian finished clearing out his desk. His small collection of personal items fit into a single cardboard box that seemed pathetically inadequate to represent two years of employment.
"Hey, Adrian," Bob said quietly as the crowd around his desk finally dispersed. "For what it's worth, I think you're going to do great. You always were the nicest guy in customer service."
"Thanks, Bob," Adrian said, surprised by how much the comment meant to him.
"And if you ever need anything—you know, regular person stuff—you've got my number."
"I might actually take you up on that."
As Adrian prepared to leave, Mr. Thompson approached one final time, this time looking genuinely contrite rather than opportunistic.
"Adrian," he said quietly, "I owe you an apology. I haven't always been the most supportive manager, and now I'm realizing that maybe you were dealing with more than I knew."
"To be fair," Adrian said, "I didn't know about any of this either until yesterday."
"Still. You were a good employee, and you'll probably be a good hero. Try not to let all this fame stuff go to your head."
"I don't think there's much danger of that."
Adrian picked up his box and headed for the elevator. As the doors opened, his former coworkers burst into another round of applause, and someone shouted, "Go save the world, Adrian!"
The elevator doors closed, and Adrian was alone for the first time all day. He looked at his reflection in the polished steel doors—a confused young man in confidence-boosting khakis, holding a cardboard box and preparing to transition from customer service to dragon riding.
His phone chimed: "Reminder: Dragon transportation tomorrow at 8:00 AM. Majestic Kevin is confirmed and ready for flight. Please have your luggage prepared tonight."
The elevator reached the ground floor, and Mr. Henderson waved him off with enthusiasm that would have been appropriate for a returning war hero.
"Give 'em hell, Adrian!" the security guard called out. "Make us proud!"
Adrian walked out of Reliable Office Solutions for the last time, carrying his box of mundane memorabilia and wearing pants that were actively boosting his confidence. The afternoon sun was shining, the magical flower rain had left the streets smelling like cinnamon, and people were still randomly smiling at each other as they walked by.
Tomorrow, he would climb onto the back of a dragon named Majestic Kevin and fly to a school that taught reality manipulation and dragon psychology.
But today, for just a little longer, he was still Adrian Klutz, former customer service representative, walking home from his normal job with a box of normal things, trying to figure out how to explain to his mother that her son's new career involved professional interaction with mythological creatures.
His phone buzzed with a text: "Weather forecast for tomorrow: Clear skies, perfect dragon flying conditions, 15% chance of prophetic visions during flight. Dress warmly at altitude!"
Adrian looked up at the clear blue sky and wondered if he would ever again live in a world where weather forecasts didn't include supernatural disclaimers.
Probably not.
But his confidence-boosting pants suggested that might not be such a bad thing after all.